My heart aches with frustration and helplessness as I speak to Mum on the phone. I sit at the kitchen table, staring out at the snow-covered garden, fighting back tears. “Mum, how could you? What were you thinking when you gave Aunt Claire half the house? And now she’s asking to move into our part! I’m so upset I can’t even think straight,” I blurt out. Mum stays silent on the other end, while I feel anger simmering inside me. Once, her kindness—something she took such pride in—seemed natural. But now I see where her decisions have led, and I can’t shake this feeling of resentment.
It all started years ago when my mum, Elizabeth Thompson, decided to help her younger sister, Claire. Aunt Claire was in a tough spot—freshly divorced, jobless, and without a home. Mum, always quick to lend a hand, didn’t hesitate to offer her a place in our house. It was an old two-storey home, passed down from Gran. Mum and Dad lived on the ground floor, while the upstairs sat empty. Back then, it seemed temporary—just until Claire got back on her feet. But instead of finding her own place, she stayed. And then Mum did something I still can’t fathom: she signed half the house over to Claire, claiming it was only fair. “She’s my sister—how can I turn her away?” Mum would say whenever I objected.
I was young then, just starting my own life, and stayed out of it. But I remember Dad, William Thompson, was against it. He grumbled that the house was our family’s legacy and giving part of it away, even to family, wasn’t right. Mum insisted, hiding behind her kindness and sense of duty. Dad eventually gave in, but I saw how it hurt him. Now, years later, I’m the one dealing with the fallout of Mum’s “generosity.”
Today, I live in that same house with my husband, James, and our two children. After Dad passed, Mum moved to a flat in London, and the house came to me. But the other half, owned by Aunt Claire, has become a nightmare. She never found her own place. She lives upstairs, constantly complaining and asking for money or favours. I’ve tried to be patient—she’s family, after all. But recently, she crossed a line: she demanded to move into our part of the house because her room is “too cold” in winter. When I refused, she accused me of being ungrateful, claiming she’d done so much for our family. I was stunned—what exactly had she done? All I see is her refusal to take responsibility for her own life.
I called Mum, hoping for support, but all I got were excuses. “Love, Claire’s family—we have to help her,” she said. I snapped, “Mum, you taught her to expect everything handed to her! Why did you give her half the house? Now she thinks she’s entitled to it all!” Mum said she never meant for things to turn out this way, that she only wanted to help, but I could tell she was dodging blame. The kindness she once prided herself on has now become my burden.
I don’t know what to do next. Part of me doesn’t want to fight with Aunt Claire—she’s family, and I do feel sorry for her. But I’m tired of her endless demands and this nagging sense that our home isn’t fully ours anymore. James is furious, and I don’t blame him—he works hard to provide for us, and now Aunt Claire acts like we owe her. We’ve even talked about selling the house and moving, but it’s complicated. My childhood memories are here, along with echoes of Dad and Gran. And I know Mum would disapprove, even though she doesn’t live here anymore.
Sometimes I wonder—what if Mum hadn’t given Claire half the house? Maybe Aunt Claire would’ve sorted herself out by now. Or am I being too harsh? But then I remember her brazen demand to take over our space, and the anger flares again. I don’t want my kids growing up in a house full of tension. I want our home to be a place of peace and happiness.
Yesterday, I tried explaining to Mum how much this weighs on me. She promised to talk to Claire, but I doubt it’ll change anything. Mum’s kindness once seemed her greatest trait, but now I see how it can backfire. I love my family, but I need to protect my home and my peace. Maybe I’ll have to set firm boundaries with Aunt Claire, even if it’s hard. Or maybe I’ll find a way to forgive Mum and accept things as they are. But one thing’s certain—I won’t let someone else’s decisions dictate my life anymore.
